CHAPTER II.—Continued

Taranaki Herald, Volume LIV, Issue 13656, 11 May 1908, Page 6

CHAPTER ll.— Continued

All this time, Arnold Koinvay luu! near the door, watching her. So many things seemed to ha\e happenetl in the last hour or so ; he had hien eallod upon to enter, in a moment is it were, an entirely new lite, and he telt unprepared lor all these sudion changes. More than that, his honor at the tate of this unknown man, lying on the iloor here almost ,; his toet, was swallowed up in a Mil ; oiis pity tor this young girl, l)i ought so suddenly i'aeo to face with ,i horrible tragedy. He wanted to help her, il possible, yet despised himm>H ior the weakness at the same time. Mr. Enoch Chickley seemed also at i loss. In all probability the thought in his mind first was one ol personal danger ; the second thought, naturally enough, concerned the question of how much there was to be i;ot out ot the business. The girl was well dressed — the man also; that looked well, to begin with. Then, again, the girl was in a difficulty, and had implored his help ; that help, it given, must bo paid for. He looker 1 up at her, and slowly shook his head. "I am afraid, my dear young lady," he said, solemnly, "I am very much afraid that I can do nothing for you. A dead man in an hotel is a difficulty ; you can't very well' smuggle him out of the place at a moment's notice. Would it not bo wiser to " appeal to the manager of tho hotel — to explain the circumstances, and to throw yourself on his mercy? A little scandal, perhaps — a newspaper report — 'Suspicious Death in a London Hotel.' " "No — no — not that!" exclaimed the girl. "Don't you understand that it wasn't my fault? I came here at his request. I meant to go away again after I had seen him — we wero to part to-night. It must not be knoAvn even that I was here. Something must be done." "My dear young lady," said Enoch, gazing pensively at tho dead man, "may I remind you that we are at the present moment in London — in the beginning of the twentieth century. You really cannot, I assure you, carry a dead man out of a London hotel at this hour, and assure the first police- . man you happen to meet that he has died unexpectedly, and that you are taking him home to his friends. A ■ suspicious lot, the London police — they do not like to take your word for anything." "But can't I go-j-can't I get away without anyone seeing me?" "Oh, the selfishness .of woman!" exclaimed Enoch, raising his hands piously. "Would you, then, leave your friend dead, and leave two innocent strangers to bo accused of some complicity in the matter? My friend and i have reputations also to consider ; why should we forfeit them for a stranger?" "But I tell .you the fault was not mine," said the girl in a low voice, and only glancing tor a moment at Enoch. "I came hero to see him; I was to go away again, and no one was to know." "My dear young lady, the ways of Provideneo are straiige," murmured Mr. Chickley. "Obviously it was not i intended that you should go away witb- ' out anyone knowing what had happened. I presume that you wished your meeting with this gentleman to be quite a secret one, oh?" "Quite secret," she replied. "There were reasons." "Ah — so I should have imagined," said Mr. Chickley, dryly. "Is, ho a friend?" "A very old friend." | "You have met him, I venture to suppose, quite unknown to your other friends?" "No one knows anything about it," she replied, almost in a whisper. "It would cause you the gravest possible trouble— even compromise you—were it known that you hail met your —your friend— in this fashion, and at tins hour?" suggested the smooth voice ot Enoch Chickley. "I do not wish anyone to know at all." she replied, averting her face. _ Mr. Chickley sat, thoughtfully pulling at his beard for a moment or two, and solemnly shaking his head. At la. 3 f he looked up at tho girl, and spoke, always, in that smooth soft voice ot his. • My dear young lady, 1 must ask you a question or two. Answojr me I'.mkly, because in your candour lies sour only chance, of safely. I believe 1 fan help you; it i h "dangerous, J admit ; but I think I can." "II you only will!" she exclaimed, turning her frightened face to his for a moment. "'['his gentleman, who now reposes , so calmly at my feet— did he reside lure permanently?" asked Enoch. "lie lived a rather mysterious lile; f believe he really lived in some other part of London. He seemed to suggf st that he had merely rome here, a-, a convenient place- in which to meet me.' !);d you enquire ior him by name v> 'ir-n you arrived ?" '•Vex he had told me to do so." "And that name wa.s ?" The \ni(" of Mr. Chickley was more persuasive than ever. "fiiiko Danbury," replied the girl. "l>id you give your name?" "Vo. I merely told the servanl tha< a lady wished to see him," she r< plied. "Now, my dear young lady, I am going to put your courage to a severe test," said Mr. Chickley. "It it had e\ei been my good fortune to possess a d.ujghier of my own, my heart would •h,i\e bled tor her, under such cirriinisfHiiees a.s tlie.se, had she so far placed herself in such a position, and i i«">pardi.s»d her good mime. Don't in-tei-M'j)(-_ me." he added, holding up ;• , plot estin,!' hand as .she was about to speak, "I jim obliged to be plain. You would, it possible, get our silent h lend here out of the way, so that it might appear that his death had taken place el'ewhere? In order to do that, we must account ior his peculiar state in some- way to the hotel authorities. My dear boy"- he turned with » smiling face to Arnold — "will you have tiif goodness to i ing the bell?" The girl {.pniiig forward instantly. "Ar^ yon mad?" she asked. "Do you w.ijif to bring shame and trouble upon 'mi", after all my appeals to you?" "Oli! woman, woman!" oxHninied Knot h. raising It's hands despairingly, • how little faith iheie is in >ou ! Does it not occur to you, my doar young

lad> . tli.it, lor the most obvious rea^-eu oi 'all— that oi eii'lan^ei i.i«^ my o« >i reputation — 1 should scaietl.\ mil i.'n-ri-k ot exposin-j, \ou, 'I it could a\.)ided My de-w' boy, rinjj, the bell." Arnold turned, and jjrcs.scd liih thumb against t!ie electric button near him. Even ay hv did so. Mr. Enoch Chiekley, Minliu^ moie than e\er, btoo))c.r, and with .. st length one would scarcely have <j;iven him credit lor. lilted the dead man in his arms, ai"i heated him in a. corner ol the sola. Then lie backoned to the &u.-\, and spoke in a quick whisper: "Now lor \our courage. .Stand line, so tluit you shade his lace lrom the lp;l:t ; bend iorward a little, as thou-'n you were speaking to him, or wtic anxiuus about him. Remember, he has, iainted; the waiter, whose iootsteps 1 hear now, must not see his iace clearly. Quick!" ••I can't! 1 can't!" she exclaimed, turning away with a shudder. For 'answer, he took her wrist, and drew her quickly across the room. ''It's only ior a moment, but you mibt do it. There's our man at the door." The waiter, when he entered, observed what appeared to be Mr. Luke Danbury in a sort oi iainting tit on the soia. with the joung lady bending over him; the smooth gentle \oue ot the venerable-looking Mr. duckies greeted him. "So glad you've come, waiter. The gentleman has suddenly taken ill- a >o--t oi iaintness. Will you, as rapidh .'• possible, get me some brandy— t he best, j ot course, ;>nd bring it herey li I can revivo him a little, 1 may manageto get him home. Pray be quick." The waiter was out oi the door ;<t once, and came back in surprisingly short time. Mr. Chickley took ihe brandy, thanked him, and very gently thrust him out again. "We shiill manage very nicely, now," he said. "1 will not iorget to mention your remarkable activity and civility to the management. Thank jou again." Then, as the door closed, he turned rapidly, but ,yot as cafnily as ever, and laced tho&e in the room— the dead and the li\ing. "Evidence of the condirion ot the gentleman, to begin with," he said, softly. "If we had taken him downstairs, as J hope to take ihin>. without any preparation! we migl\t have been stopped, and awkward questions a^ked. As it is, that fellow will spread the news in all directions that the gentleman in this room has hem taken seriously ill, and i s about to be conveyed home. Now ior the next business." (To be continued.)